Trembling With Fear 05/05/2019

The Sound of Silence

Stephen shifted in bed to look at the clock. He squinted against the red glow and sighed as it confirmed his fears. 5:30am; barely two hours sleep. Last night hadn’t been much better, nor the night before. His dreams certainly didn’t help – he wasn’t even sure they could be called dreams. The cloudy rings under his eyes would make most believe he had been the participant of a lost fist fight. Stephen stroked the empty space beside him. Something had to change, and he had to be the one to change it; no one else was going to look after him. He could feel his mind and body collapsing from the exhaustion, like a log slowly disintegrating in flames. Settling back, his eyes twitched against the swirling darkness of the ceiling, shadows melting into abnormal shapes and colours as he sighed deeply once more. It drowned out the Hum for a fraction of a second but did not stop it.

He sat up. Sleep had given up on him so he returned in kind. He reached past the clock, pausing above a photo before picking up two rings, slipping on one with ease while the other golden band barely squeezed onto his pinky. He rose and dressed slowly, dragging on sneakers with drunken fingers, and a jacket that should have been replaced several winters ago. He had to walk; clear his head, or try to. The bare cupboards decided he wouldn’t be having breakfast. Locking his door behind him, Stephen shuffled down the hallway past the rooms of silent neighbours no doubt lost in the realm of peaceful dreams. He caught the elevator to the ground floor of the complex and stared at his cracked reflection inside. Pale skin broken only by black eyes and a beard that made him add razor to his shopping list were now defining features. Stepping out into the dark street, he sank deeper into his jacket against the brisk air. Despite being only a few blocks from the city centre, all was quiet, not even a stray car to add its lights to the flickering lamps. Another time he would have found it soothing. He began his trek and made it several paces before he stopped completely.

Unmoving; a lone statue in a lonely street he appeared, until he turned and retreated, cocking his ear and finally confirming his suspicion. The Hum changed volume as he walked. It had never done that – or maybe he simply hadn’t noticed. Who could say when your mind was already half puddle? More importantly was what it told him. It meant there was nothing wrong with his head or his ears; he was not losing his sanity. It meant the Hum was coming from somewhere, and he would find it. He headed back the way he’d came and followed the sound; making his way through various streets and alleys as the Hum grew ever louder.

The Sun was starting to rise and while there were still no cars, there were some people. More than one would expect. Stephen furrowed his brow until he realised; they had to be like him. They too were hearing the Hum and it haunted their waking hours as it did his. He gave one passer-by a reassuring smile; he was going to help them. All he received was a blank stare in response. Quite a few people were giving Stephen the same empty look but his mind was too distracted to take note. Even a man who walked straight into him was forgotten instantly; their concerned frown unseen by Stephen’s tunnel vision. Stephen backtracked to an alley. He was close. He eyed its dead end with some trepidation until he saw a roller door on the left. Making his way into the narrow corridor, he was unaware of the vacant eyes trailing him as he leant down and pried his fingers between ground and roller; attempting to lift what may as well have been solid wall. Standing back up he swore and punched the door as a shadow crawled slowly into the ally. He slumped forward – resting his head against the metal was oddly soothing, but it did not stop the tears. He couldn’t take it anymore, why wouldn’t it stop?

Stephen had always been familiar with the Hum, as were most people. He found it in the dead of night. Found it as he lay in bed while darkness spread throughout the room, deafening the surroundings. And when all was quiet and empty, he began to hear the silence; he began to hear the Hum. As Stephen grew accustomed, it became like a memory that sat just out of reach; tickling his consciousness with its obscurity. That changed when it followed him in the morning, latching on with iron claws throughout the day and staying with him into the deepest parts of the night, chasing away any hope of sleep with its newfound intensity. Its hummingbird echoes crashed from wall to wall inside his head – his personal endless orchestra.

Stephen’s subdued sobs reverberated through the alley, drowning out the approaching footsteps until a sack was pulled over his head and the world went black. He struggled but found his arms unable to move away from his body. He heard the roller door being lifted before somebody forced him forward, saying nothing as they shoved and dragged him through the unknown. Stephen threw his shoulder backward and attempted to run but all the blind dash earned him was a blow to the stomach and several minutes of breathlessness. He had no clue how long he was pushed through strange corridors and down infinite stairs – he felt as if he was in the very depths of the Earth, where ominous hands caressed his frame with malevolent force. Who would find him down here? Who would even look for him? Stephen twisted the ring on his pinky. Not her. Not now. He doubted his work would notice if he didn’t come in tomorrow. Since the Hum had pulled him into its callous embrace his work ethic had collapsed and a spittle dispensing boss in turn alienated him from his co-workers. He didn’t blame them, not really.

Stephen was halted and forced to his knees. It was quiet, the Hum was deafening. His arms were returned; the sack was ripped from his head and the Hum assaulted his hearing. A generator ready to power the world was echoing inside his ears, screeching and drowning out all else. Nose to the ground, he reached up with one hand and placed it against his earlobe, pulling it back to see the blood flowing freely. Stephen locked eyes onto the cracked floor, focusing on indecipherable carvings and refusing to behold what lay before him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a face leaned over him. Through the river of red he managed to hear a single sentence.
“Do it for her, she’s missed you.”

Stephen slowly sat back and stared towards the source, seeing it clearly for a moment before his vision began to go red. He raised his other hand and held it against his cheek as the blood flowed from his eyes. He began to laugh. Louder and louder he laughed until his whole body was shaking from the force. Yet he could not hear even a whisper of it over the deafening sound of silence.